


The Great Yeti Adventure.

by Sententiae



Category: Boy Meets World
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 19:33:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sententiae/pseuds/Sententiae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shawn and Cory go Yeti hunting.  Very slight hints of Cory/Shawn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Great Yeti Adventure.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fandomonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomonymous/gifts).



> Merry Christmas!

It was the ski trip to end all ski trips. Not, Cory was quick to point out to anyone who hadn't heard the story before, because they'd ended up on the front page of all the local newspapers (although that had been awesome, as well).

No. It was the world's greatest ski trip because Cory – after three years of elusive, luckless searching – finally managed to catch a glimpse of (not one, not two) but a whole herd of Yeti.

And yes, for all the non-believers out there. Yeti _herd._ This was not a fact that Cory had previously stumbled across in any of the conspiracy books he kept stuffed under his mattress. Considering that said conspiracy books contained a thousand different facts about everything from the number of toes (two through to twelve) to their preferred recreation activities, this was rather surprising in and off itself. Perhaps even worth proper documentation as an official artifact in the greatness of Cory's overall discovery, as Yeti-related evidence had a habit of disappearing.

But that? Was going just a little bit off track. The part of their adventure that had contained actual Yeti sightings had all started when ...

“Please, no. Anything but a ski trip.” Shawn dropped his head morosely down onto his stack of books. “Couldn't we just have a pop test, instead?”

“Mr Hunter,” Mr Feeny gently admonished, more than just a hint of disbelief coloring his voice. “Normally announcements of class trips devoid of any actual intellectual content are meet with uproarious support by my students. In fact, on most occasions you are the one leading the celebratory chants. Pray do tell what has lead to such a drastic change in personality?”

“It's not that we don't appreciate the _idea_ of such a trip,” Topanga responded reluctantly when Shawn simply groaned pitifully into his science text book. “It's just-” she broke off, shooting Cory an apologetic side glance. “Well. Yeti.”

“I am going to regret asking you to expand on your answer, aren't I?” Their teacher already looked less than pleased.

“Topanga expending on the topic? Not a problem.” Shawn stated, rejoining the conversation without lifting his head. “In fact, that is easily the least painful option. Topanga, expand away.”

“Yeti's are clearly creatures of the snow, and snow trips provide an excellent opportunity to study them in their natural habitat.” Cory would have spoken up earlier, however the moment Mr Feeny had announced the trip white noise had taken over his brain, and, Shawn would contend later, leaked out of his ears and buzzed through the entire classroom.

“Doom!” Shawn declared mournfully, and even Topanga shook her head in open disappointment. Mr Feeny was polite enough to only look 3/4ths disgusted.

It was all rather unfair, really. Everyone had their little hobbies, their quirks. So Cory happened to have a little thing for conspiracy theories, who didn't? Boring, unimaginative people, perhaps, but Topanga was always harping on about the secret meat used in the cafeteria, and Shawn believed that the weatherman had Russian satellite connections. Even Mr Feeny had dared challenge conventional wisdom the previous day by suggesting that Shakespeare may have been a front for the real author of 'his' plays.

Besides, anyone who had a soul _knew_ that Yeti existed. Proven fact.

Cory did so not pack for the trip as much as he prepared for it. Three kinds of cameras, each with their own adjustable lens? Check. His mother's camcorder, sneakily sneaked out of her cabinet while she was preparing dinner? Check. It took him several days to make sure he had everything just right, and even then he missed out on some glaringly obvious necessities.

“I read somewhere that beef jerky is a perfect lure for unsuspecting yeti,”Shawn confided with a guilty grin when he came over the night before the trip, and it was all Cory could do to keep from punching his fist in the air in glee. He'd known that his best friend (and therefore obviously awesome person) would come around. It was why Cory had packed two pairs of night goggles.

And so, the great Yeti escapade was on for another year! Surely, between his smarts and Shawn's ability to get them both into (and out of) the most ridiculous situations, this year they would track down the mighty Yeti and totally, unrepentantly own him.

Well. That had been the plan.

“When I think of the Yeti's natural habitat, this really wasn't what I was thinking of.” Peals of laughter and chatter clogged up the air, smothering away anything and everything that made nature natural and turning the ski slope into the sporting equivalent of an an outdoor shopping mall.

Yeti did not shop. Nor did they wear day-glow orange ski suits that burned your retinas if you looked at them for too long. In fact, Cory was starting to realise why Yeti had become so reclusive. What reasonable abdominal snowman - who just wanted to get on with his daily stomping around and reindeer eating – would put himself through _this?_

I think we're going to have to venture off the beaten track,” Cory finally said, having now searched for clues along the bunny slope for the fourth time. It had not been a great first three days. No, that wasn't entirely true. It had been great in many, many ways. A great failure, for instance, worked pretty damn well. A great waste of time? Absolutely accurate. In desperation, he had started following around the largest, hairiest, most European looking man he could find in the hopes that he might just be a Yeti in disguise, however all those hopes had been disturbingly dashed after Cory had foolishly tried to film him 'au natural'. In the sweat lodge. That had NOT gone well.

“In case you haven't noticed, even the 'off the beaten track' tracks have waiting lists. And tour guides. And billboards advertising the latest happy meal at McDonald's.” Shawn let out a groan as he dropped down onto the bench beside Cory, shaking his heavy backpack loose from his shoulders.

“How about the paths that aren't in the guidebooks?” it was just the daring sort of question an explorer such as Cory would pose, and he fluffed up a little at the thought.

“Ah, Cory? They're not in the guidebooks for a reason,” Shawn pointed out, his forehead creased sceptically. “It's because those paths would kill you as soon as look at you. You do remember what happened to that guy a couple of years ahead of us, don't you? They say the path _ate_ him.

“The path, Shawn?” Cory asked seriously. “Or, a Yeti?”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” And yet, Shawn's mouth was already curling into a (reluctantly) devious grin.

“Besides,” Cory amended, already mentally plotting how they could slip out of the planned class excursion to the outdoor ice rink. “How dangerous could it really be?”

Really dangerous, it turned out. The sort of avalanche/snow storm/freezing half to death kind of dangerous that only happened to really attractive people in the movies, definitely not the kind that was usually unleashed on ordinary teens who just needed to be taught an important life lesson or two. It hadn't been that bad at the start (so the snow had gotten a little heavy, they were Yeti hunters, out to rewrite history!), but by the time they'd (mostly) out run an avalanche, skidded across a cracking lake that wasn't on any map of the area that Cory had ever seen, and got caught in an unexpected snow storm (damn Shawn's weatherman and his faulty connections!), things were starting to look a little … well.

Blockbuster Summer Movie Dangerous.

The half cave, half rocky overhang that they crawled beneath offered very little protection from the wild flurries of snow that whipped down around them, catching in their hair and soaking through their clothes. At least the acid-cold bite of the wind was mostly neutralized by the very much basic protection the ledge offered.

Still.

They were drenched.

Exhausted.

Soul suckingly cold.

It was a time for great speeches.

“Um.” Cory began-

“Don't even,” Shawn interrupted crossly.

\- and ended. Ok, so maybe great speeches were off the table. That might have actually been a good thing, because while Cory had a handful of awesome soundbites currently floating around in his head just begging to be called upon, he wasn't entirely sure that he would have been able to blend the best of JFK, Martin Luther King Junior, and Hulk Hogan into the really big smoothie of apologeticness that he needed to serve up on a platter for Shawn.

Wait. Was 'apologeticness' even a word? He might have to copyright it if they ever got out of this.

“Besides,” Shawn said, reluctantly. “This is only 4/5ths your fault. The other fifth lays squarely on Mr Feeny's shoulders. Topanga and I both warned him.”

“Fair enough,” Cory replied with a nod.

Cory had thought that, at some point, the snow would have to let up. Statistically, that was how weather worked. It got crazy bad, and then it got better. The problem they were having was that it was continuing down the crazy path, and they were quickly running out of options.

“I hate to say this, Shawn.” Cory took a deep breath (or at least, as deep a breath he could possibly take without sucking in the thin icicles that passed for air). “But I think we are going to have to snuggle.”

Snuggling was not something best friends generally did, but Cory was sure that if there was a guideline out there for moments when platonic snuggling was appropriate, this would surely be second on the list. Right after winning the WWF title for the first time. There were possibly other ways they could try and keep warm, but the thought of getting up and doing some actual running on the spot not only seemed a little unrealistic right now, considering that Cory's knees had frozen right though, it also made him impossibly grumpy.

“I think this has got to be THE most embarrassing way to die,” Shawn eventually said despondently. “I'm wearing your brother's ski pants, for crying out loud. They're pink!”

“Don't say that,” Cory murmured back, barely able to keep his eyes open under the weight of the snow that seemed intent on gluing his eyelashes together. “Maybe this will go down as the most awesome death ever. They might make a movie based on our tragic demise, as shot by the first Yeti director.”

“Or they might just use us as part of a very special episode on some third rate tv show.”

Ouch. They fell silent again. Silences were coming more often now, the words becoming difficult to form.

“Don't take this the wrong way, but you are pretty good at this snuggling thing.” This time, Cory spoke first, although half his words seemed to be lost to the wind. And Shawn really was. Not warm, exactly, because they were out in the middle of a snowstorm and not even burning lava would be enough to create some heat. But … snuggly. And sort of nice. And there. But then, Shawn always was. He was obviously suffering from the extreme version of ice-cream brain freeze, because the bravery to say what he did next came from absolutely nowhere. “Or, you know. Take it the wrong way if you like.”

Shawn's gaze flickered over to him, before turning back to the white wasteland before them. “If I have to be the subject of some embarrassing after-school special, I'm glad it's with you.”

Cory sniffed dramatically. “You know, Shawn. I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.”

Shawn moved – nay – _snuggled_ closer.

Really, maybe this wasn't such a bad way to go, after all. There was no pain, just a gnawing numbness that was nibbling at his toes and taking chunks out of his fingers. He could feel Shawn's soft, icy breaths against his neck, even if Shawn had drifted off into sleep a good twenty minutes ago.

Yeah. Worse ways to go than to a wall of white, although, ha. Funny how he'd never actually thought that they wouldn't be found and rescued if they just waited long enough and traded the required amount of clever quips.

When he woke up it was to more white, but the vague, woody smell had been replaced by an antiseptic stink that Cory wrinkled his nose at.

“You took your time,” Shawn said grumpily. Cory blinked back the creakiness in his eyes, the room fading in and out of focus momentarily before he was finally able to focus more fully on his friend. Shawn sat in a (deeply uncomfortable looking) chair at Cory's bedside, his hair ruffled and rubbing his eyes with his fists. Shawn looked pale and drawn, a subtle pain threaded through his features and a sort of … oddness … in the way he sat. He didn't exactly look comfortable to be out of bed himself, and Cory came to the sudden realization that maybe Shawn wasn't supposed to be here at all.

“There's something I think you should see.”

Ok. Maybe not the most heart-warming “I'm so glad you're not dead” response Cory had been expecting, but Shawn was being serious, and that was not something that should ever be taken lightly.

“Then show me.”

Small tremors ran uncontrollably through Shawn's hands as he passed the small camcorder to Cory, who struggled up onto his elbows. His whole body felt like it had been run over by a steamroller and then been victimized by a Vader Splash. The last time he had seen the camcorder, he'd been recording Shawn's last will and testament on it. Shawn had left all his possessions to George Lucas, on the condition that he come and pick everything up himself. Holding it again felt strangely like he was holding something dead, cold.

He flipped the camcorder screen open and pressed play. At first there wasn't much to see beyond the snow that seemed to be thundering down, but slowly, slowly a hairy, tall form could be made out. It bent down in front of them, dropping down a pile of sticks and bark that – against all common sense and everything Cory had ever been taught about the scientific components required to not only make a fire but maintain one – burst into flames with a quick spark of flint, staying burning and flickering heat even as the hulking form disappeared back into the storm.

And, _damn._ It turned out he'd been completely wrong about Yeti and their opinions on day-glow orange.

“What do you want to do?” Shawn asked quietly when Cory snapped the screen back shut. “He saved us, Cory.”

The rest went unsaid, but Shawn was looking at him expectantly.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Cory replied, pausing only briefly before pressing delete.

He was starting to understand how so much Yeti-related evidence got 'lost'.

With that simple act, their great Yeti adventure came (at least officially) to a close. Their rescue scored them a couple of local interviews, and Cory was placed in the unusual position when they returned to school of being seen as somewhat of a celebrity. For all of two weeks. It may have been the most awesome two weeks of his life.

But as for the Yeti herd?

Well _that_ was another story.


End file.
